


Dior Sauvage & Green Irish Tweed

by ChocolateCarnival



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Twins, Angst, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Jealous Harry Hart, M/M, Major Character Injury, Multi, Possessive twins, Shy Eggsy, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-15 08:38:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13609638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolateCarnival/pseuds/ChocolateCarnival
Summary: ‘Let me breathe an epistolary of benediction upon thy parted lips,
        slowly subtly we’ll entwine thine soul just to anchor it gracefully to
        the flowing heavens above.’~Harry Hart never told Eggsy he had a brother, one his protégé could never
    have expected. Yet, as they grow closer in the wake of Galahad’s near fatal
    injury; a deeper and much more meaningful entanglement strives to bind them
    together. Loyal to a fault, the younger agent is absolutely terrified of
    falling in love with either of them…never mind both.The only question he can plead with the heavens to never ask is to choose,
    he would never have the strength to survive it.





	Dior Sauvage & Green Irish Tweed

**Author's Note:**

> *Sigh* I tried not to let this one overtake me, I was even 1/4 of the way through Men of Ardour's first chapter but I before I knew it I had worked out this story's plot in one night. I've always loved writing twin dynamics and since I've wanted to do this with Men of Ardour in the first place, I decided to start another piece to satisfy my own lovely desires. 
> 
> I think I had a little too much fun writing Henry Hart, I based him off of how I perceive Colin Firth as himself whilst preparing myself to eventually write a Fitherton piece sometime. Anyways, I do so hope that this one can be enjoyed. 
> 
> Just to note, the Title is the colognes the twins wear. I'll let you decide which one belongs is which. ;) Poor Eggsy, he's going to be in for a wild ride.

[](http://tinypic.com?ref=6ibja9)

Prologue: The Fisher King

“Fifteen minutes to touching ground, Fisher King. Gawain and Percival are on standby in the hanger.” Allowing a brief sigh of irritation to spill passed pale lips, emotionally softened smoky brown eyes blinked lazily at the feeble sunlight creeping passed intermittent circular Gulfstream windows. It was far too early for this shit, he mourned. It hadn’t even been _three_ days since the premature end of V-Day and already their resident tech-wizard was treating every outlying knight or ‘monarch’ with as much suspicion and dread as a dead, traitor, king should permit. 

  
“I do recall _still_ having my head attached to my body, Merlin.” He hissed scathingly, dragging frustrated fingers through fluffy silver threaded mahogany locks. “I’ve been loyal to this organisation for over twenty- _eight_ years, that’s barely less than the great Galahad himself. I would _never_ —.” 

  
“That’s not the point, Fisher King.” A familiar Scottish brogue interrupted. “We’ve initiated Excalibur Protocol after Chester’s death. _Every_ senior knight or department head capable of succeeding Arthur’s position needs to be protected regardless of their integrity as they step foot on British soil. I will certainly _not_ be doing this emergency election over again simply because yeh decided yer arse was too valuable to follow protocol. Yer are far too much like—.” 

  
“Right.” The older gentleman responded succinctly, swiftly interrupting the irate Handler before he could say something the both of them would regret. He definitely did _not_ miss the way the Scot spat the deceased Arthur’s name, his grumble of pure discontent openly leaking across the private comm line as he no likely rubbed an exasperated palm over a hairless head. 

  
Henry Adair Hart understood his frustration intimately, being in much the same position himself. He was _not_ used to being tailed by two guards wherever he went, never mind constantly monitored through his glasses. He usually _did_ the monitoring, not the other way round. As the head of Research and Development in Berlin, this situation was a far cry from one of his engineers seeking out his approval for a new toy their agents could play with in the field or his haggard assistant trying to switch out his coffee addiction for proper, _English,_ tea. 

  
Though, Henry would _never_ have the same appreciation for something that will never have the caffeine consistency to tar roads with unlike his insufferable twin. Posh British twat that he was, Harry probably did it simply to satisfy his own narcissistic tendencies for being a proper gentleman.  
Poor sod. He had no idea what he was missing did he? 

  
Before the nine-minute younger Hart could get dragged away by his wired musings after less than six hours of sleep over the last seventy-two hours; he reluctantly tipped a head of curly locks against a luxurious leather seat as fell into asking the same questions that had tumbled over his lips since Galahad had been discovered mercifully alive forty hours ago. Now that he had been extracted with the help of their espionage cousins, Statesman in Kentucky; he was probably secured in Kingsman Medical with—. 

  
“Which one, Henry? Galahad Junior or Galahad Senior?” Merlin interrupted, using his given name to soften the seriousness of the conversation as it pulled a brief smile over agent’s lips before he dug blunt fingernails into the charcoal grey of meticulously fitted jeans. He could already feel his senses begin to lurch as the aircraft began a swift descent into Hertfordshire airspace. 

  
“Which one indeed,” he hummed in amusement. Apparently Harold Roderick Hart, oldest son to the Lord and Lady Hart of Pembrokeshire; had gotten himself a puppy over the last few months whilst his twin had been stuck in Malta for research. Usually he would be quite upset that his brother had not invited him to share in such a darling find, especially since the young man was adorable enough to even break through Merlin’s stoic stone heart during training. He could distinctly remember having just as much fun hacking through the tech-wizard’s servers just to watch the classified Lancelot Trails to piss him off—. 

  
“Harry is surprisingly stable for the severity of his injury,” Merlin interrupted sympathetically. “There’s not much changed since the last report, he’s been sedated in a medically induced coma until Ginger Ale can finish monitoring his skull reconstruction and regenerate the damaged tissue. There is still a small possibility of retrograde amnesia, personality alteration or debilitated mobility. But as of yet, nothing is certain nor is his chances of waking naturally over the next month.” 

  
“Eggsy on the other hand, hasn’t left Harry’s side since he arrived this morning. He refuses to eat, drink, move or sleep regardless of not having had any proper rest since his debrief three days before. I only managed to get him to rest a few minutes ago by threatening to ban him from Medical if he did not sleep in his quarters for a few hours. He’s snuck back in regardless and fell asleep beside Galahad’s bedside.” 

  
“I’m hoping that with the presence of another Hart, he can at least calm down and learn to _breathe_ again.” Henry hummed thoughtfully in the back of his throat, smoky topaz eyes glancing at the early morning sky spread outside the private jet’s windows as he adjusted more personalized glasses with thicker black rims, silver accents on the arms and a more rounded shape across his nose. 

  
“And his support, the young Lancelot? She hasn’t been able to make much of a difference?” At Merlin’s negative grumble, a frown furrowed dark brows as the fifty-three-year-old reached for a near-empty glass of scotch next to his seat. He was suddenly in need of a drink, the soft caress of a navy blue cardigan, concealing a hastily thrown on white polo shirt with the collar crumpled around his neck; provided little comfort against the bitter cold creeping through synthetic metal walls. 

  
Effortlessly elegant movements were tapping black combat boots on the surface of a plush beige carpet, the last amber drags in the bottom of a crystal tumbler flowing smoothly down the recesses of his throat as he briefly entertained thoughts of refilling the glass for a third time. 

  
It wasn’t a feasible idea, he noted harshly. Not if he wanted to get drunk. The soothing warmth it invoked in the pit of his stomach would simply have to do. 

  
“You don’t think my presence will come as too much of a shock for the young man?” It was a legitimate fear to have, especially since Eggsy was unaware of his mentor having an identical twin. It could cause quite a bit of trouble, especially in delicate situations such as these. 

  
“At this point, Henry, I am willing to try anything to not lose a very capable agent to a psychotic break. Eggsy hacked Galahad’s comms during the Kentucky mission, watched him shot point blank in the head and thought him dead. And then he spent the next forty-eight hours saving the world and cleaning up the worst of the political blowback.” 

  
_“Christ.”_ He hissed in surprise. “It’s a miracle he’s even responsive.” 

  
“ _Quite._ Now if I will not have to sedate him the moment a cardiac arrhythmia arrests Harry’s monitors or he doesn’t wake when Ginger Ale says he should, I’ll consider it a triumph.” And that was the crux of the problem wasn’t it, newly inducted Knights or failed candidates usually did not get thrown into the deep end of the espionage world that quickly. Neither were they expected to watch as their mentors died without the psychological training of a Handler. 

  
“I’ll see what I can do, Merlin. Though I cannot promise anything. If he’s as attached to Harry as I believe he is, my presence may well confuse or only cause further rifts.” 

  
“All that I ask is that yeh try, Fisher King. We all know yeh are much less emotionally constipated than dear Galahad. His protégé is going to need _someone_ to keep an eye on him before he steps too deep into his mind.” Allowing a quiet sigh of concern to brush passed a full bottom lip, Henry nodded quietly in understanding before blinking three times to disconnect the private comm line. It was lucky there was no others passengers on the plane besides him, he noted. There was no one to witness the more relaxed of the twins furrowing his brows in deep concern or the shaky, displaced, exhalations that interrupted his breathing pattern. 

  
Harry often forgot he had others waiting for his safe return after missions, wilfully testing the hands of fate to see just how far he could stretch his bonds to mortality. It had been over decade now since his older brother had gotten himself as close to death as he was now, a traumatic experience the Berlin King was in no hurry to repeat regardless of the seven months Galahad had spent in a coma after Professor Arnold’s explosive demise as well. 

  
Stepping into the vast Kingsman hanger after the plane landed a few silent minutes later, the unusually freezing temperature coiling through the open space coloured a stray exhale misty-white as he curled long fingers deeper into his pockets. There were two Knights patiently waiting for his arrival just as promised, promptly sent scattering into the shadows of the immense building the moment a displeased frown marred his usually pleasantly features and he glared them away. 

  
Henry was _not_ in the mood for an escort just so that he could go visit his twin, thank you very much. Surely they had enough professionalism to respect his need for privacy. 

  
“Fisher King,” Nodding stoic acknowledgement at the head physician’s that greeted him respectfully as he passed through the far too familiar infirmary doors, the sight that greeted him on the other side of the dimly lit ICU was no worse or better than what he expected. Harry Hart was tangled in a swathe of medical monitors, beeping equipment and a hissing ventilator with most of his head shadowed in pristine white bandages. He was unnaturally still, only the mechanical rise and fall of his chest offering any indication that he was indeed alive as the weak light reflected off of sickly, pale, skin. 

  
There was a youthful body, curled in a protective ball on one of the leather armchairs situated beside the bed. He was wearing a three-day rumpled Kingsman suit respectably well, his mentor’s limp hand clutched desperately between shaky fingertips as the young man’s preciously coiffed russet locks threw a coppery halo about his head. The dull grey illumination was reflecting off of black Kingsman issue glasses, drawing the older man’s attention to the ruined but valuable Rainmaker resting protectively beside his chair. 

  
Eggsy Unwin was _utterly_ breathtaking in that moment. Even though Henry had been keeping a careful eye on the boy’s progress during the Lancelot trails, _nothing_ could have prepared him for the feel of his natural presence on the other side of a stoic surveillance system. When Harry had gleefully boasted about the darling treasure he had found in the slums of London (the young son of his previous candidate) he had questioned the bias of his brother’s joyful observations. 

  
But _this_ he could see for himself. Eggsy’s fierce loyalty was visceral in every strained line of his body, youthfully smooth skin thrumming with sheer potential to rise above any situation thrown in his direction even whilst asleep as dark circles drawn beneath closed eyes barely retracted from the natural beauty of his charm. Even with the world desperately trying to break the boy’s soul over the last few days, Henry knew Eggsy would bend and sway under the pressure but never break. 

  
That was _if_ his insufferable twin pulled himself together, he noted. Eggsy was clearly distraught by his mentor’s state of being, just as much as Henry feared for the other half of his entire existence. It was a fact he rarely admitted to himself unless swept up in severe melancholy. Seeing Harry like this was _more_ than enough to knock the very breath from his lungs and rattle Kingsman’s most at ease Engineer. 

  
Keeping his gait quiet and easy as he crossed the threshold to shut the door behind him, the fifty-three-year-old allowed instinct to guide him forward as he drew closer to rest the back of his hand upon Galahad the younger’s forehead. Harry would indeed flay him _alive_ if he did not prioritize his protégé’s health above his own. 

  
“What has the man done to you, dear boy?” He hummed quietly, his voice smoky smooth as he struggled to resist the urge to guide soft burnished locks back into its debonair coif. He started slight, however, when the darling boy turned searchingly into his tender gesture. There was a quiet whimper falling from plush petal pink lips, a tense frame shifting restlessly to get closer to his body heat as Henry allowed a blissfully affectionate smile to crinkle the corner of his eyes. 

  
Oh, the boy _was_ terribly sweet. It was no wonder Harry had become so infatuated with him. It was hard _not_ to be charmed by all the stories he had been regaled with over the last few months. Suddenly drawing back before he could wake the younger man prematurely, he shifted around the bed to bestow a soothing brush of lips upon his brother’s forehead yet to be marred by sickly white bandages. 

  
Gracefully long limbs eventually folded seamlessly into the extra armchair situated on the other side of the bed, no likely having been provided for him the moment it had been declared he would be returning to HQ. 

  
The flickering equipment and dim lighting was reflecting off of the elegant Bremont encircling his wrist, the time creeping ever closer to dawn as the younger of the Hart twins settled himself in for a long wait. As it was, he was placing his bets on Eggsy being the first to see him. Harry was too well known for his ‘being late to his own bloody funeral’ reputation as Merlin put it. The Scotsman, on the other hand, was most likely watching this play out on the other side of the Fisher King’s glasses. 

  
Poised long legs lazily crossed one knee over the other as he made himself more comfortable, smoky brown eyes eventually drifting shut beneath the heavy weight of his own exhaustion as long, elegant, fingertips partially supported his drooping head. What was left of Henry’s senses, he kept carefully trained on the younger agent still fast asleep opposite him.  
He didn’t have the heart to move nor wake him. 

* * * * 

There was a tempest brewing deep within him, a roiling tangle of emotions pressing painfully upon a heaving sternum as hazy terror chased crimson blood beneath smoothly tanned skin. A despairing cry of hitched disbelief was echoing painfully in the back of a closed throat, the tell-tale burn of pained emotions stitched permanently behind fluttering eyelashes as viridian green snapped open with the suddenly real and very visceral understanding that he was not alone. 

  
When he shifted imperceptibly in his seat to scope out his surrounding, Eggsy Unwin chocked on his next inhalation as he noted the elegant frame lazing like an art-form on the armchair across the hospital bed. The neatly folded limbs, silver-threaded mahogany locks and handsomely lined features couldn’t be anyone _but_ Harry Hart. Yet, there was a strange double vision lining up the peripheries of his sight; green eyes shifting downward slightly to take in the identical (although partially bandaged) face of his beloved Mentor as well. 

  
Was this the day he finally lost his mind? It sure as hell felt like it over the last forty-eight hours, he thought. Eggsy wasn’t even sure when the last time was that he had slept for more than a few minutes or tried to move his stiff body from his seat without a gasp of anguish. Parting petal pink lips to say something, _anything,_ to dispel the confused fuzziness settled like a blanket over his thoughts, the twenty-five-year-old dropped polished black Oxfords to the floor as he dug blunt fingernails into the curve of a smooth palm. 

  
Before he could whisper a single sound that wasn’t a tone above shamefully distressed, long black lashes fluttered open behind slightly altered Kingsman-issue glasses to focus intense smoky brown orbs on his face. 

  
“’Arry?” He breathed hopefully, only vaguely realizing his mistake when dark brows pulled together for a brief moment of thought before sly amusement danced within slightly differently hued eyes. “N-no,” He quickly corrected himself with chocked surprise. “Y-y’r not ‘Arry, guv. Y’s a—.” 

  
“No, I certainly am _not_.” The man corrected him abruptly, sounding slightly offended at the mistaken identity. But the open mischief dancing behind smoky eyes told Eggsy he was merely being teased and not scolded. It was an uncanny experience coming under the scrutiny of such a warm gaze however that was but was _not_ his Harry at the same time. 

  
“Henry Adair Hart.” Startling slightly when the aforementioned Henry fluidly pushed himself to his feet, puzzled green eyes could not be drawn away from the perfectly fitted charcoal grey denims that accentuated gracefully long legs and mud caked combat boots. Not to mention the clothes that were adorably rumpled, not in any way that Harry Hart would ever be caught dead in. 

  
“I realise it’s a bit of a shock finding me here like this. Merlin has called me from Berlin to help with running things until the world settles down again. I will confess that I am, of course, the better Hart by far. But I do suppose my insufferable twin has his uses.” 

  
“Bruv, that’s—.” Eggsy couldn’t finish the sentence, a bubble of pure hilarity simmering passed parted lips as he gripped the palm offered to him in a friendly handshake the moment the taller man shuffled around the bed. 

  
What the _fuck_ kind of movie was this? He sure as hell had not expected today to start out this way, not quite sure if he was truly awake or not until he was forced to jump slightly at the large palm curling amiably around his smaller hand. His heart was fluttering nervously in his chest, astonished carnation green eyes trying not to stare at the open gentleness reflected in the older man’s expression that he had seen crossing Harry’s features only on a rare few occasions. 

  
“Have you had something to eat yet, Eggsy?” Numbly shaking his head at the question, the twenty-five-year-old was treated to the most wonderful sensation of warm fingertips guiding stray russet strands falling over his forehead back into its debonair coif before he was gifted the most wonderfully inviting smile lighting up the recesses of the icy room. “Would you care to join me? I believe the silver service at the shop would have prepared breakfast by now.” 

  
“I-I—.” Eggsy didn’t want to decline, he was suddenly intensely aware of how long ago he had last eaten. But—. 

  
“You’re worried something will happen to Harry?” At the younger agent’s silent but somewhat shameful nod, Henry merely gentled his expression before reaching for Eggsy’s glasses with a quiet “May I?” At the younger man’s nod, the frames were tenderly removed from his face before Henry gripped a wafer thin tablet from the side of the chair he had been sitting in as he spent a few concentrated moments fiddling with the tech whilst sitting on the edge of his brother’s bed. 

  
“There we are,” Handing back the black Kingsman-issue frames with a cheeky smile, Eggsy was naturally a bit wary of what the older gentleman had just done to them before he slid them obediently back across his nose. Frowning in concentration when he checked the small screen of readouts that appeared in the left hand corner of his right lens, he was properly surprised when a tall frame slipped confidently next to him and offered him a conspiratorial wink. 

  
“Is that—?” 

  
“Harry’s vitals? Yes. Though, if Merlin asks how you slipped through his secure servers, pretend you know nothing. I think I’ve lit enough fires beneath his arse over the last few days.” 

Swallowing around the sudden knot of emotion that crept into the back of his throat, Eggsy averted his gaze to the scuff of polished black Oxfords as he struggled to compose himself beyond the brief snort of amusement before it could twist itself into a hitched sob. 

  
_No_ one at HQ had told him anything of note, not even how Harry was doing physically despite him sitting by his side for the last twenty-five hours straight. He was only vaguely aware of how he was still alive, having been in a right state when Merlin had sat him down with a lady from Statesman. He doesn’t even remember half of the contents of that conversation, he had still been in blatant shock. But this…this was—. 

  
‘Thank you.” He whispered hoarsely, desperately trying not to pay attention to the slight sob that arrested his breathing before he leant into the warm palm that curled, oh so familiarly, around over the curve of his shoulder. It was instantly grounding, providing an anchor for his haywire senses as he struggled to reign in the tempest that had been brewing within him ever since that deafeningly lethal bang and horrifying silence had issued forth from Harry’s laptop speakers. 

  
“Are you alright?” Shuddering unexpectedly when the pad of a thumb pressed down on the sensitive skin on the back of his neck, Eggsy took a deep, watery, breath before stubbornly blinking back the painful sting that built steadily in the back of his eyes. Every small bit of kindness from this man seemed to tear down years of deliberate emotional distance inside him, affecting his sense of worth and need to live up to the potential Harry had seen in him just as much as when he was in his brother’s presence. 

  
There was a moment of charged silence stretched between them, not entirely uncomfortable — just assessing — as Eggsy slowly straightened the droop in his shoulder and turned his attention back to concerned brown eyes. The reassuring touch on his shoulder had yet to leave, concentrated black pupils automatically checking the steady rising and falling isotopes of Harry’s heartbeat in the corner of glasses lens before he offered a shaky but form nod. Even with lips thinned in strain, a watery film brightening the green of his irises and a faint tremor shivering beneath pale skin, the older agent was too much of a gentleman to draw attention to subtle loss of control. 

  
“I’d be honoured if you joined me for breakfast, dear boy.” After the kindness he showed Eggsy, he couldn’t find it in himself to refuse. He nodded hesitantly, trying to push back the simmering warmth a small endearment seared across his senses as he reluctantly drew away from Henry’s side so he could press his fingertips to the beating pulse point of Harry’s wrist and briefly measure out the same rhythm reflected on his lenses. 

  
The room’s only other occupant offered no reprimand for his actions, merely gathering a leather satchel and an abandoned tablet before patiently waiting by the door. 

  
“He’ll be alright, Eggsy. You’ll see. I’ve known the bastard long enough that this will merely be a brief inconvenience before he’s up terrorising Merlin or me.” Tugging his bottom lip between biting teeth as they moved through the bustling infirmary halls towards the underground bullet train, Eggsy Unwin couldn’t help but unwind a tiny bit of tension knotted between his shoulders. He was instinctively leaning towards Henry’s intrinsic warmth, using it’s generosity like a pillar to keep him standing through emotional exhaustion, confusion and indescribable heartbreak. 

  
There was a soothing aroma hazing through the air around them, completely unique and yet still complimentary to Harry’s expensive cologne. It curled sharply around his nose, stroking his senses with piercing hints of cracked black pepper and soothing bergamot. Different, he noted…wilder and freer than his mentor’s rigid English gentlemanly veneer. And yet, there were was still a soothing sophistication entwined around the older man’s soul, a more flexible tone curling around cool consonants and smooth vowels. 

  
It was strange, Eggsy had never come across something like this. He knew twins, yes. Had met a few in his lifetime, but the similarities and complimentary differences that existed between Henry and Harry Hart was both awe inspiring and a little confusing. Even if Henry seemed to tease Harry’s reputation, he could still see the flowing link of affection that bound them intimately. 

  
Would it be considered a sin if he admitted to an instantaneous attraction between them, much like Eggsy had felt when Harry had sat in a booth across from him in the Black Prince all those months ago? Quickly pushing aside the sensational shudder creeping up the length of his spine, emotionally darkened eyes fluttered restlessly as a secret underground tunnel flew passed their small rectangular window outside. 

  
It took fifteen minutes for them to arrive back at the shop, frustrated fingertips curling into rumpled bespoke trousers as Henry led them towards the upstairs dining room where Eggsy had killed Arthur only a few days ago. That was—. 

  
“I’ve forgotten how dull it is here,” Henry interrupted his slowly panicking thoughts, a gentle touch guiding back down the stairs and nodding in the direction of one of the tailors who uttered a brief good morning. “I’m sure a café in Mayfair would suit us better, I know one just around the corner from here with the best coffee.” 

  
“Thanks.” Eggsy offered quietly, unable to put the roiling emotions in his chest into words quite yet as they stepped out into the bitter London air and a Kingsman taxi idled patiently a few meters away. The young agent was infinitely glad however, when Henry merely hummed a quiet melody beneath his breath and started walking down the street instead. All that he was missing now, he thought, was a swaying umbrella, perfectly coifed hair and a bespoke suit and he would easily be mistaken for Harry Hart. Even their gentlemanly swagger was near identical. 

  
Maybe this morning was not as bad as he had first thought, Eggsy mused. Maybe things were looking up just a tiny bit as a small smile curled up the corner of his lips. 

  
“Keep up, darling. You wouldn’t want to miss this.” Spluttering a cough at the teasing endearment, the flush that heated his cheeks with delighted embarrassment was so very, _very_ real. 

  
Eggsy was so sure that either Hart was going to be the death of him, never mind the two of them together. 

* * * *  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading, I really appreciate it. I better get back to my other stories all waiting for an update. I'm getting to them slowly but surely so that I won't disappoint my readers. 
> 
> Other than that, if I can ask for a small review, I would be eternally grateful. I do hope it was an enjoyable read for you. 
> 
> Chocolate Carnival


End file.
